Darkside Cookies
by Metropolis Kid
Summary: The interrogation of a Jedi Prisoner takes a rather unexpected turn, well unexpected to her anyway. Please don't take too seriously. One-Shot.


**Darkside Cookies**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any material contained within this story. All copyrighted content remains the property of the person, people, or organization that holds the copyright. This story is solely for fun.

**AN:** I've included quite a few Star Wars quotes in this little one shot. For some extra fun, see how many you can spot. ;)

* * *

The room was dark, illuminated only by a flickering candle and a red glow coming from... something - she knew not what - in the left corner of the room. The newly christened Jedi Knight thought it ridiculous. Who used such an antiquated and inferior form of lighting aboard a star ship? And she knew very well that she was being held aboard a ship, for although drugged, bound, gagged and blindfold when she'd originally been brought aboard, she'd recovered more than enough of her senses to have felt the tell-tale lurch during the recent jump to Hyperspace.

The Jedi stared at the flickering light in front of her. Her order used candles occasionally as well, but only to aid in meditation, never as a primary source of illumination. Well, at least they never would rely on such when better, more advanced options were available. Was it an attempt at psychological manipulation? Did her torturer (whomever that was to be) hope that the steady flicker of the flame would help to calm her and make her susceptible to suggestion? Was it intended to aid in hypnosis? If so, whoever he/she was, they knew nothing of the power of a Jedi's mind.

She'd been trained to resists the efforts of both Imperial and Sith torturers. She knew their tactics, their perverted, sadistic pleasures, how they went about to breaking their victims. But she was no victim. A captive, yes, but no victim. She was a Jedi. Her mind and resolve were strong. And so she snorted at the candle and its dancing shadows, which whispered to her the promises of pain, misery, and mind games yet to come. Let them do their worst. She would not break.

The Jedi's stomach rumbled. By Force, she was hungry! She had received no food since her capture more than four galactic standard days ago. Her captors had allowed her a few sips of water, enough to keep her alive and able to talk, though she'd told them nothing. But they had not given her any food, another attempt to weaken her resolve she was sure. But like the candle, this too would fail. A Jedi was more than her body and above the lusts and desires of the flesh. Her physical form may have cried out for nourishment, but her will was in control. "There is no emotion. There is peace," The Jedi began just as a swooshing sound and a brief burst of white light from somewhere behind her told her that the door to her cell had been opened.

It closed just as swiftly, but the Jedi knew that she was no longer alone in the room, for she heard the footfalls of leather boots on the metal floor. And they were drawing closer to her. "So, another Imperial lackey, or has my torturer finally arrived?" the Jedi inquired. She did her best to keep emotion from her voice, even still a slightly sardonic tone leached in.

"I prefer the term interrogator," a soft, somewhat smug voice answered back as the room's new occupant rounded the table in front of the captured Jedi, bringing his face into view, and claimed the seat across from hers. He looked young for a Sith torturer (for now that she could see the robes and dark hood, the Jedi had no doubt that her torturer was indeed a full-fledged Sith), no more than five to seven years older than herself.

"You can prefer whatever you want, but I call things by what they are," the Jedi replied obstinately.

"Then you judge me wrongly, for I have no intension of harming you. My master would like to know where you were trained. You are too young to have received your training before we sacked Coruscant and destroyed the Jedi Temple there, and we'd very much like to discover where the Republic is training its latest breed of Jedi Knights."

The Jedi could feel the Sith probing her mind, attempting to latch onto any memories from her training which might aid in the discovery of the new temple. But it was light probing, more a surface scan than anything else. And it was plenty easy to throw up a mental wall around such thoughts and divert her attention away from memories of her training.

"But I certainly wouldn't stoop to torture to obtain such information," the Sith continued, his words belied by the slow unsheathing of a large lacerated knife.

"Clearly not," the Jedi replied sarcastically and prepared herself for the assault she was sure was to follow. However, to her surprise, the Sith didn't lash out with the knife. Instead he got up from the chair across from her's and turned away.

"I'm sure your training, wherever you received it, involved instruction on how your cult views more... 'independently minded' Force users."

"Independently minded?" The Jedi let out a scornful laugh. "You serve masters, a dark council, and an emperor all bent on the enslavement of all sentient life in the galaxy! There's nothing independent about you!"

"You judge us too harshly," The Sith replied. "But it is not your fault. You're only regurgitating the propaganda spoon-fed you during your training."

She could still feel his mind upon hers scanning, ever so subtly and was sure that the comment about her training was intended to elicit a memory from that time, something that the Sith could latch onto. She gave him nothing.

"But, the truth is that the highest goal of any true Sith is not the enslavement of others, but personal freedom. While it's true that _some_ may have lost sight of that goal, there are others who hold to the true teachings of the code."

"I've heard _your_ code. It encourages war, bigotry, and the accumulation of power through violence."

"There are as many different interpretations of the our code as there are Sith. We have no firmly established version, drilled into us from infancy... such as your cult does. However, anyone who analysis the code with the least bit of impartial contemplation can see that regardless of what means one uses to obtain victory, the ultimate goal of the power accumulate is personal freedom. The culmination of the entire code is 'Through victory my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.'"

"Pretty words," the Jedi consented. " But then most lies are disguised in pretty words. It makes them easier to swallow," she then retorted.

"Lies? You want to talk about lies?" the Sith responded as the Jedi heard him roughly slam the blade of his knife down on something over in the corner of the room. Then he opened a compartment on the glowing apparatus next to him, and the Jedi could see the red hot coals burning within. The Sith inserted something into the furnace, but for all her straining against her shackles, the Jedi could not tell what. "Then let's talk about the lies and half truths the leaders of your cult instilled in you during your training."

He was back to that again? Hadn't he figured out yet that no matter how many times he brought up her training, she wasn't about to let anything slip in her mind?

"I'm sure they told you all about Sith tortures, Sith sadism, barbarism! They told you how we're bad men... and women too, to be fair. But doubtless they left out the most important thing everyone should know about the Sith." The man's previously soft speech had now given way to an impassioned urgency that bordered on the deranged, and he quickly made his way back to the table in the center of the room. In the flickering flame, his eyes seemed a glow with intensity as he stared down at the captured Jedi, the long knife still in his hand. And she felt sure that the inevitable cutting was about to begin. The Sith's lip curled into a sickening smile as he leaned down closer to the woman, and she prepared herself for the worst.

But then, strangely, the intensity seemed to drain from his eyes and was replaced with an almost amused quality. The Jedi heard the sound of something (ceramic maybe?) being plopped down next to the candle on the table between them, and the Sith continued in a sly tone. "We make a fine sandwich."

The Jedi stared in disbelief at the foot long breaded wonder before her. The meat was piled high and seemed composed of at least four, maybe five different varieties. The corners of slices of cheese jutted out abundantly from the roll, and she could just make out the slight leakage of the three different sauces which coated the top half of the bread. Atop it all, two tooth-picked olives divided the sandwich into thirds. Even had she been fed regularly, the Jedi imagined she would've salivated at the sight before her. As it was, her empty, neglected stomach seemed to burn for the delicious nourishment resting just out of reach.

The Sith moved around the table and reached for the shackles which held the Jedi's arms to her chair. "This ship is populated by over one hundred imperial security officers and a half dozen Sith Warriors, and the security protocols are new and top of the line. There's no point in trying to escape as long as you're aboard," he warned then undid the bindings.

The warning was actually unnecessary. Escape was not her plan... at least not until she'd satisfied a more immediate biological need. Disregarding her usual composure the Jedi practically lunged for the sandwich which was to be her first taste of food in over four days. But she pulled her hands back at the last second and cast a weary look over at her captor. "How do I know this isn't some kind of a trick?"

The Sith sighed, then moved to reclaim his seat across from the Jedi. With the knife he severed the sandwich into two equal sections and positioned them both midway between himself and her. "Pick a half," he instructed.

The Jedi pointed to the one on her right, and the Sith reached for the one on the left. However, at the last moment, the Jedi scooped that one up instead. She was no fool. She knew it would be easy enough to dope half of a sandwich, especially one that size, and leave the other untouched. And the whole pick your half meant nothing until she knew that her captor was committed to eating the other half. But then, when he reached for the half he was to consume himself, well that half had to be safe. Sure, maybe such planning border on paranoia, but the Sith were a wryly bunch, and their schemes were not to be underestimated.

To the Jedi's surprise, the Sith actually let out a chuckle as she furiously tore into her half of the sandwich. She consumed it all in less than three minutes. "Wow, didn't the imperials feed you?" the Sith asked.

"You know very well they didn't," the Jedi fired back her mouth still full of meat, bread, cheese, and sauces. "I'm sure you told them not to as part of your plan. Though if you expect me to betray my order for a sandwich, you've got a bolt loose in your head."

The Sith just rolled his eyes at the Jedi's accusation, then broke off the untouched half of his own portion of the sandwich and handed that to her as well. She hesitated for a split second, but then took this offering as well. Though, her initial ravenousness curbed, she did consume it more slowly than she had her half.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," the Sith responded. "But you know Sith don't just make the best sandwiches in the Galaxy. You really should consider coming over to the Darkside. ... We have cookies!" the Sith exclaimed with a large grin just as a buzzing sound came from the glowing furnace in the corner.

"Oooh, perfect timing," the Sith continued as he got up from his chair and headed over to the oven. He was back scarily a minute later, holding a try of warm, freshly baked peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies, which he held under the Jedi's nose for a few seconds as he leaned beside her chair. "Darkside cookies smell good don't they?" the Sith inquired in a smug yet somewhat playful tone, and this time it was the Jedi's turn to roll her eyes.

He pushed the candle to the side and set the try down in the center of table then reclaimed his seat across from her. She reached for a cookie then quickly retracted her hand. "Ow!" She exclaimed as she shook it a couple of times and then sucked on the index finger.

The Sith stared strangely at her. "Well, what did you expect? They just came out of the oven." He let out a slight chuckle.

"And here I thought you said that you weren't going to hurt me," the Jedi accused, a slight playfulness creeping into her own tone.

"I did, and _I_ didn't," the Sith countered. "But I can't be held responsible for whatever lapse in judgment caused the Jedi to reach for a platter of freshly baked, Darkside cookies as soon as they emerged from the oven. I suppose you could take this as a life lesson though, abandon _all_ restraint and rush too quickly towards the Darkside and you're going to get burned," he jested back.

"Oh, hardy, har, har," the Jedi fake-laughed as the two waited for the cookies to cool enough to eat.

The two spent the next fifteen minutes discussing philosophies, histories, and (once they were sufficiently cooled) indulging in the Darkside cookies the Sith had baked. The Jedi was careful not to say anything about the current state of her order or any strong holds it might have of course. But she was happy to discuss philosophy and core teachings. The Sith before her didn't seem to terribly evil after all, maybe there was a chance that a deeper understanding of the Jedi might help to enlighten him and turn him from the Darkside. And if so, well, having a double agent aboard the ship certainly couldn't hurt her chances of escape.

Eventually, the cookies were all gone however and the conversation began to wind down, leaving two rather stuffed Force users slouching back as much as possible in their chairs. "That was... surprisingly good."

"Well, that's what comes of a belief system which encourages self indulgence and personal freedom over self subjugation and sacrifice. We have very tasty foods."

"Hardly justifies the wholesale slaughter of populations and enslavement of half the galaxy," the Jedi countered.

"Well, I guess that depends on your perspective," the Sith argued. "I didn't see you shedding any tears over the lives, nor living conditions, of the animals that made up that sandwich."

The Jedi waived her hand dismissively. "Totally different circumstance. Those _animals_ weren't sentient."

"And how do you know that?" the Sith inquired.

And the Jedi's face scrunched up for a second. "Well, they don't talk, do they?"

"Bah, the ability to speak does not make one intelligent."

The Jedi shook her head. "You're a little off, aren't you?"

At this the man laughed outright. "You would expect less from a Sith?"

And the woman chuckled too. "No, I guess not." She smacked her lips together. "Hey, you got anything to drink?"

The Sith smiled broadly as he got up and retrieved a picture of nearly ice-cold, blue milk. He set it down on his side of the table and poured a heaping glass full, but kept it just beyond the Jedi's reach. "So, you have fallen into my cleverly laid trap," the Sith cooed. "The sandwich, the cookies, all prep work, Darlin'. Now you're left full but thirsty, and I hold the glass of milk. Look at it, so blue and cold and tasty. And it can be all yours if for the low, low cost of the location where you were trained."

The Jedi rolled her eyes again. "Very funny," she replied sarcastically. "Now can I have the milk?"

"Certainly," the Sith replied but made no move to hand the glass over, "just as soon as you tell me where you were trained."

The Jedi eyed the Sith strangely. He... he couldn't be serious, could he? She stared at him curiously. Could this have really been his plan all along? Everything he did, said, the sandwich, the cookies, just to bait her into asking for a drink so he could try to use the milk as leverage; was that really his sinister plan? It couldn't be, could it? She continued staring at the expectant look on the Sith's face, and suddenly she realized that it must be true. And then.. then she started to laugh - uncontrollably. _That_ had been the Sith's plan? That was his grand scheme? Build up trust and then withhold milk for information? A ten-year-old could've come up with a better plan than that. It seemed that her training had been wrong after all. The Sith weren't the cunning, master manipulators that her masters at the temple had told her they were. They were just completely deranged, over grown children!

Then, to the Jedi's surprise, the Sith started to laugh as well, and he handed the milk over to her. "Had you going there, didn't I?" he slyfully inquired.

"If your intension was to make me doubt your sanity, then yes," The Jedi responded as she took a gulp from the glass.

"The Sith rolled up a sleeve and looked at his watch. My master's going to be expecting a status report in less than ten minutes. Looks like our time is up... for now anyway." He rose from his seat and headed towards the door behind the Jedi. "You know it would make things go a lot easier on me if you'd tell me _something_ about your training experience. There's gotta be some little detail that I could pass onto my master which wouldn't give away the location, but would make it look like I made _some_ progress," Sith continued.

The Jedi just shook her head. "The only things I could tell you would be lies, and I suspect those would get you into even more trouble."

"Well, the 'not getting me into even more trouble' is greatly appreciated," the Sith responded as the door whooshed open and then shut once again.

* * *

"So, you get anything?" the Imperial intelligence officer outside the room asked once the soundproof door had closed.

"Not much for most of the interrogation. After awhile, her mind became accustomed to my scanning, and I was able to pick up on a few rooms and faces as we discussed the philosophy the Jedi cult had rammed down her throat. But nothing too useful... not until the end that is." The Sith grinned a proud, predatory grin.

"I take it she let something big slip then?"

"Oh yes. When she was laughing at my _supposed_ insanity, she thought about her masters and the temple she'd received her instruction at. I didn't get the name of the planet, but I did get an exterior image of the temple itself and the landscape around it."

"Enough to run a topographical comparison through our databanks?"

"I believe so. I'm on my way to find a sketcher now to turn the memory into picture I can run."

"Amazing. We've captured dozens of Jedi since they moved their training grounds. No one's been able to get anything from them."

"That's because they use torture to try to extract the information. Torture is, historically, an unreliable means of obtaining accurate information - so much more so, when the captured party has been specifically trained to resist it. They just shut down, and you can't get anything useful. Show them a little kindness, maybe a dash of whimsy on the other hand; make them feel like you're on their side, and they start to open up. And then you can get a lot more from them."

"I see. Very good, Sir. And now that this interrogation is over what would you have me do with the prisoner?"

At this the Sith hummed and rubbed his chine for a moment. "She's already seen me, and we've begun to establish a rapport. Treat her well. Remember that she's a Jedi, and dangerous, and don't let her out of your sight. But deliver her to one of the regular holding cells. Give her clean clothes and bedding. Bring her food and water as she requests. And if she asks for anything more, let me know and I'll judge rather the request could be a dangerous one. We can get a lot more information from this one, if we go about it properly."

"As you say, Sir."

* * *

Well, first time I've written anything in a while, but the idea of the Sith sandwich and Darkside cookies being used during an interrogation just wouldn't leave my head. And I finally found some time to pen a short story around it. I hope you all enjoyed this and got a chuckle or two out of it.

Have a good day, and God bless.

Metropolis Kid.


End file.
